


Saccharine Sweet

by sadbabyosborn (arka_r)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabbles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arka_r/pseuds/sadbabyosborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He used to believe he had a place where he belonged. A home. A family. A mother and a father. A brother. He was a prince and was a king—a rightful king, placed on the throne by his right.</p><p>Set after Thor: The Dark World, so yeah there's some spoilery bits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a bad day (fainted in a lift). So here’s some frostiron fluff/smut/angstypie/whatever /o/
> 
> my tumblr: http://purplefloweronmydesk.tumblr.com/

Lies coated with honey still left bitter aftertaste, no matter how sweet, no matter how thick you lathered it.

He used to believe he had a place where he belonged. A home. A family. A mother and a father. A brother. He was a prince and was a king—a _rightful_ king, placed on the throne by his right.

But turned out it was all lies, oh yes it all.

His home was not his home; he was stolen from the frozen wastelands that should be his home ( _or his death, but nothing mattered_ ). His mother was not his mother, his father was not his father, and the pain he endured for being his brother’s ( ** _not_** _brother’s_ ) shadow was all but naught.

Truly an irony that the God of Lies’ own life was constructed by lies itself.

Lies, and faults.

Of course it was his faults that Thor got banished. Of course it was his faults that he then ascended as the King of Asgard. Of course it was his faults that he sent the Destroyer after those ungrateful miscreants broke his order _as a king_. Of course it was his faults that he brought an army to rain destruction upon Midgard. It was all his faults, but never he regretted it.

But then right after he was brought before _Odin_ ( ** _not_** _his father_ ), the old swindler had told him that Loki Odinson was dead already, and this strange creature lived inside his body in his stead. His mother told him that he was her son nonetheless, asked him whether she was his mother still or not.

He denied her; because he was never a son, only an outsider, a stranger, a thorn in Asgard Royals’ side.

He was never a son of Odin and Frigga, never a brother of Thor. He made that clear.

But yet…

The memories of old times haunted him; wisps of green magic, scents of herbs and flowers of his mother—no, **_not_** _his mother_ …

_She was dead, Frigga was dead._

_And all he had was rage; whirling, raging rage like storm; and memories of green, gold, gold, and smile so wide and comforting._

“Since you’re awake, you’re up for round three?” sound of Stark stopped his wandering mind. Ah, yes.

Lips curled into dangerous smile, Loki rested his chin to his not-lover. This man, this strange, strange man, albeit his known reputation as one of the heroes of Midgard, had accepted him, a villain (not a villain; it was his right to rule), sort of enemy, into his house—no, not accepted; for one, Loki knew that his sentient house was always watching, ready to send warnings had the runaway god did something to his master.

“You’re overestimating your own ability, Stark”, the god nipped the other man— _mortal_ —‘s chest sort-of-affectionately. His hand travelled down, down, to where Stark’s cock laid limp, his seeds already drying. “Can it even get up?”

A groan. “Give me a minute…” And Loki chuckled, yet never ceased to fondle the man’s cock, enticing another longer, deeper groan. His eyes betrayed his mirth.

“Alright, but know that my week was a hell hole, what with that _incident_ at Greenwich. Stupid SHIELD. Like us superheroes don’t have day job”, Stark huffed, but clearly trying to stifle his moans. Despite his half-interested cock, he looked straight to Loki’s green, green eyes, and asked, “You sure that’s not your doing, huh, Frosty Toes?”

At some days, Stark’s stupidly straightforward curiosity never ceased his amusement.

“Had it was mine doing, should I be licking my metaphorical wound somewhere instead of fondling your cock here in your _humble_ abode?” the god smirked wickedly.

“Well, I know for one you licked _something_ some hours ago, just not your—oh _shit_ , yessss”, the mortal man, the _hero_ , hissed in pleasure. Loki might or might not have pinched his balls, before continuing his ministration. “Just, you kind of have a record with alien invasion before, _hng_?”

Without reservation, the god climbed up to straddle Stark’s waist, both hands guiding Stark’s now-hard cock into his soppy, already loose hole, and _took_ him all. Both mortal man and god moaned in pleasure; Stark for having his cock suddenly inside that hot, wet hole, and Loki for having filled yet _again_.

“Oh, I assure you—” Loki lifted up his body “—that was not mine doing, _darling_ ” and thrusting down on Stark’s cock.

For some moment, neither man nor god said _anything_ except breathless pleas of _yes_ and _more_ and _harder_. This, this was what Loki wanted _now_ ; the meetings of two bodies where they took and took and took, with no drop of saccharine-sweetened smile and no spindle of lies.

They chased their pleasure until they could no more—well, _Stark_ could do no more. Right after he shot his seeds deep inside the god, he slumped, exhausted, though his eyes still curiously followed his not-lover’s felineness movement as he licked the spent seeds off Stark’s belly. What a pity, that insatiability was wasted, entrapped inside a weak mortal body.

“Go to sleep, Stark. I shall be here when you’re awaken.” A promise, or lie.

Through dizzy eyes, Stark smiled at him.

“You’re gorgeous.”

Loki kissed his mouth, because _lies hurt_.

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the (unintended) ending...

He woke to the sound of Stark’s heavy breathing, and none other.

Loki was never too often spent his morns in his not-lover not-nemesis’ embrace, but as it seemed, this was one of those rare moments where he was.

He was never so content like this. Perhaps when he was in mother’s cradle; but when your mother was never really your mother and her love was all but lies, would that feeling be real?

“You’re thinking too hard”, Stark’s voice, hoarse but sharply clear in the silence of the room, cut through.

Sunrays spilled into the room through the tinted windows. Though the silence was odd—Stark’s sentient house would usually interrupt their mornings with prattles of insignificances, but not this morning as it seemed—it was not unwelcomed.

“I’m plotting of your untimely demise, o’ Brave Hero”, Loki hummed. He could practically hear Stark _smirked_ at his reply.

“Oh, how scary”, he mocked, both hands slipped to Loki’s front as he held him from behind—spooned, was that the mortals called? “Will the evil villain not kill me if I suck his cock?”

That had some response. “You _could_ try.”

-

And that was how Loki’s morning ended up to.

If Stark stroked his brows in lover’s caress as he lost in passion, Loki would never mention it.

-

(Later, they also had another coupling in the shower.)


End file.
